


bucky barnes’ bad (beard) day

by stevebuckiest



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Attempt at Humor, Bearded Steve Rogers, Body Image, But He Is Also Not A Sex God, CMONNN I HAD TO!, Communication, Domestic, Erotica, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, M/M, Sex Jokes, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Toys, White Wolf Bucky Barnes, autonomy disconnect, big dick bucky barnes, bucky is annoyed, but no sex, but not in that way...anyways, capitalism is evil but also amusing, no like LITERAL toys, so he has a beard too!, this is self serving to the author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:14:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevebuckiest/pseuds/stevebuckiest
Summary: Maybe it’s petty, because these people at the end of the day took time to create things based off of him, but it’s driving him nuts. Especially considering he’s had his beard way longer than Steve. Years, actually.Steve’s had his for a month as long as they know. And yet-
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 9
Kudos: 118





	bucky barnes’ bad (beard) day

**Author's Note:**

> get it? like a bad hair day. 
> 
> anyways, i know this fic is completely indulgent of my heartbreak over no one loving bucky’s beard as much as steve’s (we really all ignore it to the point where i forgot he HAD one in infinity war for a while...) but it’s also me exploring a bit of what i think we tend to forget about bucky’s autonomy issues and things that come with it. am i projecting? yes. do i also think that people with body issues are often bothered by small differences in perception people have with their body that might usually go unnoticed or not thought of? i know i am! i could go deeper into discussion but that isn’t what you’re here for...
> 
> the point is...bucky beard erasure is evil. kidding! mostly. bucky, just know that even if other people forget you have a beard too, me and steve remember and love it dearly.

Now, Bucky isn’t exactly the leading expert on all things 21st century (truth be told he’s still struggling to figure out how to work the damn _coffee pot_ \- whoever had the brilliant idea of adding fifty thousand bells and whistles to it can go to hell), but if there’s one thing he knows about the modern world, it’s that there is Captain America themed _everything_ available nowadays. 

Shirts, blankets, toys (both the normal and the sexual sort- Bucky had had a field day when he found out about the _Captain’s Cock_ shit. And that was before he even knew about the Cap themed pornos), pajamas, posters (turns out Steve did turn out to be a pin-up boy, just like Bucky always used to tease him), stuffed animals, towels, popsicles, even _erotica_ novels, which is something Bucky takes great glee out of when he’s reading them to Steve while he’s got him facedown in his lap ready to nap. It always gets thrown to the side after two seconds of Steve groaning and whining about how he’s too tired for Bucky to be an asshole, but it also makes him get all flustered and turn beet red, and Bucky can’t help but poke fun about it to help him relax a bit. 

Steve’s not the uptight prude everyone paints him out to be (can’t be when he’s got Bucky around to keep him filthy), but he definitely has difficulty shedding the clean-cut Cap act sometimes. It can be a real stressor when he’s trying to come back to himself off the job only to tense up every time he’s about to swear. Bucky likes showing him how ridiculously far that whole shtick is from who Steve _actually_ is, and if reading horribly out of character erotica is the way to do that (since when did Steve get so _mean_ in bed? Bucky’s the only one who has ever been in it with him- he should know better than anyone), then so be it. Coming up with creative ways to get the stick out of Steve’s ass is something he’s been doing since he was scrawny and sullen. 

The erotica isn’t the only thing Bucky teases Steve with- the Captain America panties and sports bra were a hit (Steve thinks Bucky doesn’t know he still wears the latter to go running occasionally, but he absolutely does), even if the vibrator was an absolute _Fuck no, Barnes. Get it out of the bedroom before I kick you out too_.

Ah, well. Can’t have them all. 

It’s a bit of an inside joke at this point, one Steve tends to groan and grumble about even when he’s letting Bucky wrap a shield-patterned blanket around his shoulders or cuddle up to him wearing a shirt sporting his best guy’s face. The plethora of this shit at Bucky’s fingertips (both metal and flesh alike) is definitely a plus of this century, he thinks, especially with how it gets Steve to make that _aw, shucks_ face every time he sees his own face or symbol in public. 

That’s not to say that there hadn’t been a few similar things back in the day- after all, Captain America started out as a fucking _propaganda_ attempt at first, a fact Steve is more embarrassed about than the tights or the short-shorts (Bucky really misses those, actually. He should search around and see if they sell any vintage Cap uniform costumes for sale). They had wanted the Captain to be marketable, hence the stupid jingle theme song and insisting Steve prance around with the USO girls above his head like a show pony, but there hadn’t been enough resources back then to physically make much with. A few stuffed bears and buttons were about the limit for Captain America merchandise in the forties. None of the other things had been around for the opportunity, at least not like they are now. 

Funnily enough, that’s not the _only_ thing that didn’t used to be around. 

Just like Steve, Bucky has done some changing over all the years- gotten a little quieter, grown his hair and beard out ( _before_ Steve had decided to do the same, thank you very much), lost his arm, picked up a few style changes to his name and uniform for the job. Along with all of that and his return back to normal society, he’s somehow also picked up a few themed merchandise pieces of his own, which is kind of both hilarious and haunting when he considers what the Soldier used to make him out to be. Getting hero status enough to qualify for shit as normal as _fast food toys_ modeled after him means something special no matter how dumb it might sound. 

SHIELD might hate the fact that people are making money off of their heroes’ names, but Bucky kind of loves it. It’s flattering (although it might not strictly be legal). Even when the toys sometimes come out with unfortunate depictions- Bucky isn’t sure what he did to McDonald’s (did he assassinate one of the owners’ relatives back in the day?), but it must have been terrible for them to make his nose look that way. Sam had laughed his ass off when he saw his own likeness compared to Bucky’s.

There’s only one problem, though. The problem involving Bucky’s beard. 

Bucky’s beard is a bit of a pride point for him, all things considered. He never was much for facial hair before the war, too baby-faced and fastidious with the self grooming to pull it off. During was a bit different- he’d shaved when he could or when they had an evening off to hit the town, but days without breaks and the extended period of capture meant that his stubble became a constant- a constant that Steve didn’t mind at _all_ with the serum-enhanced sensitivity (out in a warzone surrounded by other guys wasn’t exactly the _best_ for Steve to find out he could actively make noise during fooling around without having an asthma attack, but they made it work). Even with the brain tampering and whatnot, Bucky can still remember feeling smug when the serum left Steve’s chest bare while his own chest hair was thicker than ever. Small wins. 

After the fall had gotten a bit more complicated. They’d left him mostly hairless as the Soldier besides what was on his head and the bare amounts of stubble that grew back uncomfortably under his muzzle during missions. It was hard to cut into him or place the pads for the chair on him where there was anything in between and the ice stunted any actual growth whenever he was put back under off of missions, but his body and facial hair had started growing back almost as soon as he’d gone on the run, and he had gladly let it do so now that he finally had a say in the matter again. By the time Steve found him in Bucharest, he’d been sporting a stubbly, contained beard and thin layer of chest hair that unfortunately went right back away when they had to figure out the arm Tony had fucked up and put him back under again to work out all the kinks in his head. 

Now that he’s awake again and still has the ability to make a choice, he’s decided to keep the beard thick and let the rest grow as it pleases, hair on his head included. It’s nearly down to his back by now, and whenever their friends see him and Steve together, they tease them both about looking like lumberjacks rather than that city slickers everyone knows they are at heart. Steve’s own hair is long enough to tuck behind his ears and brush the nape of his neck, beard thick and easily caught against Bucky’s own when they kiss- which is frequently, now that they have an apartment together again back in the city. You can take the boys out of the city, but not the city out of the boys, it seems. 

It had caused quite the stir when Steve first ventured out in public looking like that even without Bucky by his side, out of hiding and rumored to be picking back up the Cap mantle again at the promise of SHIELD reform. Not that Steve had ever done any public agreeing to that- privately, all the Avengers and clean SHIELD agents are aware that Steve has been working with Sam on passing the mantle down to him (watching Steve teach Sam how to throw the shield had been a hoot and a half to watch). It just hasn’t gone public yet, but Bucky thinks that maybe it’s time they start talking about it considering that all of Steve’s merchandise has had a prominent shift in the past month to match his more updated look. Talk about a waste of money once their plans are revealed- the rebranding is going to have a hell of a job cut out once Sam steps up.

The posters, the erotica (those writers had had a _field_ day with the appearance of the beard- almost more than Bucky had had personally), even the video game avatars of him had all changed to accommodate the facial hair and his newly rugged appearance. But even more importantly, one of the most popular items of hero merchandise had made the switch as well: the figurines. 

They have them for everyone- Steve, Thor, Natasha, even Clint and Scott. Hell, even _Bucky_ has one and he’s only been an Avenger for the past month.

Which was of course, how the beard problem came up. Or more accurately, the lack thereof of it. On the figurines, the posters, the spare amount of inspired porn he’s had written about him (he’s not quite as big of a hit in the author world as Steve yet, he’s afraid, but there seems to be a bit of a niche for people who _really_ like the arm- Bucky doesn’t know how he feels about that considering he has days where he still doesn’t want to have it on his body), _everything-_ almost all of them had at some point neglected to include his beard. Maybe it’s petty, because these people at the end of the day took time to create things based off of him, but it’s driving him _nuts_. Especially considering he’s had his beard way longer than Steve. _Years,_ actually. 

Steve’s had his for a _month_ as long as they know. And yet- 

Bucky scowls as they pass another toy store on their way out of the mall with shopping bags in their hands that aren’t joined together, an advert for the new _Avengers Assembled_ line of figurines on display to Steve’s left. Front and center on the sign is Steve, beard and brawn blazing. Bucky can see himself behind him, a tiny plastic sniper rifle cocked in his hands like he’s ready to go into battle right behind his boyfriend on his six like always. 

But on his face? Nothing. He scowls even deeper and tries not to squeeze Steve’s hand too tight with his prosthesis as he moves to practically drag them both past the display as quickly as he can, almost knocking off the baseball caps both of them have on to help keep their identities quiet in the process. Not that anyone would recognize Bucky with a beard _apparently_. 

Steve looks a little confused at Bucky’s sudden sullenness but doesn’t say anything to question it until they’re nearing the exit. 

“Buck,” he says. “Did something happen back there that I didn’t notice? You worried you’re gonna have an episode?” He sounds vaguely concerned, like he’s already gearing up to get Bucky out of there and away from the crowds he knows both of them are still a bit uncomfortable in. Because _that’s_ what he thinks the problem is- something legitimate. Not a hissy fit being thrown by his grown man of a partner over a hunk of plastic missing some shittily painted stubble. 

Bucky almost winces, irritation slipping slightly in favor of feeling bad about worrying his boyfriend, who is just trying to innocently enjoy their day of errands out together. He sighs and smiles sheepishly at Steve, slowing down the quickened _gotta-get-out-of-here_ pace he had picked up into. 

“Sorry, I’m fine,” he apologizes. “It’s nothing.” Because it isn’t, really. It’s just a toy. A very _annoying_ toy with a flaw that Bucky considers to be a spit in the face, but still...just a toy. 

Steve gives him a suspicious look. “So why did you just decide to try and get out of the shopping center like a bat in hell when we were already about to leave?” After all these years and all the healing they’ve been through together, they always know when the other is lying. Especially about nothing being wrong. 

_Damnit_. Bucky purses his lips and lets Steve open the door for them both to step outside. “Fine,” he admits begrudgingly. “It’s nothing _important._ ” There we go. That isn’t a lie, not really. Toys aren’t important to Bucky (although he guesses what they signify as his status as hero is). But the beard _is_ important to him in a weird way, and that last hint of a lie must peek through, because Steve is still frowning at him even after Bucky tries to placate him by sliding his hand into his back pocket in his signature “I’m using the excuse of hiding my metal hand to touch your ass” move. That usually gets him at least to crack a smile and roll his eyes, but right now? Not even a twitch.

“If it bothers you, it’s important.” He’s got that insistent quality in his tone now that tells Bucky he’s not going to worm his way out of admitting to his feelings. 

God, as glad as Bucky is that they’re both in therapy and have gotten better at communicating their feelings (their pining teenage selves from the forties would be amazed), sometimes Steve can be a real stickler about enforcing the sentiments they’ve had driven in, at least when it comes to Bucky, the little self-sacrificing punk. _All of your feelings matter_ and _nothing you feel is stupid_ being a couple of them. 

Bucky sighs again and shifts the shopping bags he’s still clutching in his right hand, resigned to the fact that Steve is going to pry his stupid (and slightly embarrassing) complaint out of him at _some_ point. Might as well be later, though. “When we get home we can talk about it, but I _promise_ it can wait until then.” At Steve’s raised eyebrows, he rolls his eyes and squeezes his ass with the hand still tucked in his pocket. “Scout’s honor.”

Steve’s blushing now, at least a little placated by the promise enough to let Bucky distract him a bit. “We were never scouts, Buck.” That’s true. They lived in New York City, what badges could they get? Back alley fighting and shoe shining?

Bucky laughs and tries to push his annoyance away completely for the rest of their time out today. “Fine, soldier’s honor. Is that good enough for you?”

“Mmhm,” Steve leans in and smacks a kiss onto Bucky’s cheek above the neatly trimmed line of his beard. “Roger that, Sergeant Barnes.”

“More like Roger _you_ , Captain Rogers.” Bucky pulls away and squints as they make their way down the sidewalk. “Or should I say _Colonel_ Rogers?”

“If you want to be technical about it, yeah,” Steve says, smile rueful underneath the gold surrounding his mouth. They both know what his official rank is, even if the others never talk about it. “But that’s a bit formal for my own boyfriend to call me, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know, a lot of those novels I’ve been reading about you in say that you _like_ when your lovers call you formal things in bed, sweetheart,” Bucky teases. “ _Captain_ is just the tip of the iceberg.”

Steve’s coloring darkens enough under his beard to rival the red flannel Bucky is wearing today (he might play into the whole lumberjack thing sometimes- sue him, he can’t wear black leather all the time). He averts his eyes, still as shy as ever when it comes to openly discussing this type of thing. He clearly has to fight to keep his voice steady when he speaks. 

“Well,” he says. “Those novels would be wrong, wouldn’t they? I don’t have _lovers_.” He slips his arm under Bucky’s in his pocket to fit around his waist and tug him closer. “I just have _you_.”

Bucky’s heart warms, irritation about the stupid figurine as good as gone. “I’m your one and only, huh?”

“All I could ever need. Or handle, probably.”

Bucky kisses him on the lips this time, a quick peck while they’re still walking that puts a spring in both their steps after they seperate. “Likewise, babydoll.” 

Steve smiles and seems to let go of Bucky’s weird act out from a few minutes prior for the time being in favor of acknowledging both of their rumbling stomachs. They’d eaten breakfast before leaving their house, but it’s later in the afternoon now, well past lunch with how long they’d been walking around in the mall. With how quick their bodies burn through calories because of their serums and how many steps they’ve gotten in today, Bucky is relieved when Steve pauses to ask where Bucky wants to go to eat now that they’re done shopping. And not just because it gives him the opportunity to stave off the “why were you upset” conversation he knows is coming later. 

They end up deciding to just pick up some salad and sandwiches from their favorite Italian place a couple blocks away from their home in Brooklyn, catching a cab back to there so they can avoid the longer part of the walk back home now that they’re carrying shopping bags and all. 

Bucky agrees to take Steve’s share of their purchases in hand so the blonde can go inside and order for them while Bucky waits on the street, leaning against the building and watching his surroundings, half out of leisure and half out of what some people might call _paranoia._ Hey, listen- they’ve had a lot of people try to kill them. It’s always good to be a little on edge when you’re in their type of business. 

He’s sweeping his eyes around the street just to take everything in when he sees it- _it_ being the game store that’s located across the street. 

It’s the type of place Bucky has never stepped foot into before. He hasn’t had much reason to, his experience with what they call ‘gaming’ nowadays starts and ends with playing MarioKart with Sam and Clint whenever they’re all in town, and he’s fine with that. Outside of watching Steve admire the graphics of advertisements they see for video games and admiring the graphics of _Steve’s_ avatars in video games for himself, Bucky doesn’t care much for them. 

Only this time, it’s not Steve’s face that he’s seeing animated on the advertisement put up before- or at least across the street from- him. It’s his own, live in living color. 

Or _supposed_ to be his own, anyways. Either Bucky’s eyesight is going bad (which would be pretty unfortunate for his professional skills) or someone forgot to shade in his beard past what looks like a smudge of dirt shadowed across the lower half of his face. _Again._

Goddamnit. He scowls just like he had in the mall and tries not to clench up his fists against the flimsy handles of their shopping bags. He shouldn’t be this mad. It shouldn’t matter, especially because at least the facial hair kind of exists on this product a little, but still. He’d had more stubble than _that_ when he got home from a late night of dancing to Steve passed out in their bed back in the 19 fucking 40s. 

He supposes that now he’s probably just being a little sensitive because of what he’d seen earlier today (and on several occasions before), but even knowing that...it doesn’t take the irritation back down _or_ away, and when Steve comes back out the door of Capri’s with a stack of styrofoam containers in hand, he finds Bucky still scowling and glaring at the shop across the way.

His eyebrows furrow, frown peeking out from under his moustache. “Buck?”

Bucky doesn’t have it in him to try to school his features this time, but he at least tears his eyes away from the advert to meet Steve’s questioning gaze. “You ready to go home, sweets?” He tries for a smile that he knows doesn’t meet his eyes. 

Steve nods slowly, but shifts and doesn’t make any move to start walking. “Are _you_ ready to tell me what’s been going on with you today?” he asks. “Because you _look_ more ready to kill someone right now.”

Bucky huffs and pushes himself off the building to take the initiative towards walking for himself, Steve falling in step beside him. “I don’t do that anymore, Rogers, you know that.” It’s a shitty joke to try and change the subject, but Steve doesn’t fall for it based off of his unimpressed look. Bucky sighs. “I promised I’d spill when we get home, and we aren’t home yet, so…” he trails off. 

“Fine, but I’m holding you to that. Barnes. Your mama raised you to be an honest man.”

“Yeah, well _your_ mama’s bedside manner obviously did not rub off on you at all,” Bucky mutters. 

Steve smiles and bumps their shoulders together. “Well, I was always the one _in_ the bed, wasn’t I?”

Bucky tries his best to relax for the meantime, bumping Steve back halfheartedly. “You’re _still_ always the one in bed, lazybones. Ever since Sam went back to DC you’ve been slacking on the morning runs, kiddo, don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Steve groans the way he always does when Bucky teases and calls him _kid_ because of the year between them, but doesn’t deny it. They both know it’s true. “At least I’m in bed _with_ you this time instead of making you watch over me all night to make sure I didn’t kick the bucket.”

Bucky turns his head to kiss his cheek, scuff on their faces scraping together. “I was glad to do it even if I wasn’t glad to have to.”

“I know, Buck.” Steve’s expression softens when he looks at him and Bucky can feel his own following along with it even with the annoyance that’s still simmering underneath. “I’m just glad that that’s changed, you know?”

“Yeah, a lot of things have changed.” The statement comes out unintentionally laced with irritation that Bucky didn’t mean to let slip through. He clears his throat before Steve can start asking questions again. “What’d you get us for dinner?”

Once Steve starts listing off the different things in the containers he’s holding, Bucky allows himself to relax a little even while he’s still scolding himself in his mind for acting like a child. Upset over some god damn _toys_. What is he, twelve? 

( _Might as well be without the beard_ , his brain helpfully supplies)

He manages to keep Steve preoccupied with conversation and small talk the rest of the way home, and is hoping to do the same through dinner as well, but- no such luck. As soon as Steve has their stack of food and his keys plopped on the counter after he lets them inside their place, he doesn’t even wait for Bucky to let their bags hit the floor before he turning to him with hands on his hips and his signature “Righteous Bastard Rogers” look on his face. 

Bucky grimaces and scoots their bags to the side with his foot before dropping down to take off his boots in an attempt to at least give himself a few more moments of peace until he has to explain himself to his boyfriend. Unfortunately, Steve is still waiting in the exact same position when Bucky stands back up after toeing his shoes off to place next to the door. 

He _can_ be patient after all, huh? Go figure. 

Steve looks at him expectantly for a moment and Bucky sighs, shrugging off his flannel to hang over the couch so he’s left in his t-shirt and jeans. “We can’t even enjoy dinner first?” he halfheartedly protests. 

Steve huffs, but starts to open their takeout containers. “You keep putting it off like you’ve been doing and I’m gonna start making a bigger deal out of it than it’s worth. Just spit it out, Buck. I’m sure I’ve heard worse.”

“That’s the problem!” Bucky groans and plops himself down onto one of their kitchen stools next to where Steve is dishing up their portions. “It’s _not_ a big deal. It’s dumb as hell. Especially considering everything else I’ve dealt with,” he mutters. “No sense in complaining over something this small.”

“Now _that’s_ what’s dumb as hell.” At Bucky’s glance, Steve gestures the plastic fork he’s holding at him with a reprimanding look akin to the one Sarah would give them whenever they stirred up too much trouble. “Just because you’ve dealt with terrible things doesn’t mean you still aren’t allowed to be upset or irritated by small ones. You think I’m not allowed to be annoyed that you use up all the hot water in the mornings just because I drowned once?”

_Jesus._ Bucky winces and chooses not to point out the flawed technicalities of Steve’s ‘drowning’. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. I _know_ you.” Steve sets down his fork and comes around the counter to set his hand on top of Bucky’s. “Buck, c’mon. You can tell me.”

Bucky sighs, but turns his hand over to lace his fingers with Steve’s. “It’s silly.”

“And that’s fine.”

They lock eyes with each other for a second until Bucky finally gives in and drops his with a tightened expression. Might as well get this over with before their food gets cold. 

“I just…” he trails off. He doesn’t tend to get too shy anymore- never was before the fall and hasn’t been since outside of his episodes of being a twitchy fuck up (Steve doesn’t like it when he says that), but this feels embarrassing enough to warrant a little faltering. Steve waits through it, ever the angel when it comes to Bucky and his problems. “It’s, you know…the toys. With my face on them and stuff.”

Steve blinks, but he at least doesn’t laugh. “Yeah?”

Bucky gives him a wry smile. “Yeah,” he says self-deprecatingly. “It sounds dumb, doesn’t it?”

“No,” Steve says quietly. “Just unexpected. You don’t like them? I kind of thought you did.”

Bucky sighs for what feels like the millionth time that day and scrubs his free hand over his beard. “I mean, I do. Usually. It’s flattering, you know? Makes me feel like a real hero. Like everyone else views me as one too.”

Steve squeezes his hand. “They do, Buck.”

Bucky squeezes back and smiles a bit more genuinely. “I guess I just have problems accepting some of the things that come with that,” he admits. “What happened earlier- that was just me being caught up in my own head and acting out on it.” He swallows and can feel his ears burning under the loosened strands of his bun as he gets the next part of this out. “I don’t like when they leave my beard out. That’s what bothers me- and don’t even try arguing with me on whether that sounds dumb or not, because I _know_ it does.”

Steve purses his lips and is silent for a moment before speaking again. “But you also know _why_ it bothers you.”

Bucky grimaces. “Well, part of it is just plain old pettiness,” he jokes weakly, reaching his hand out to skritch over Steve’s beard instead this time. “Your beard got more popular than mine pretty fast and all. Put your old man to shame, Stevie.”

Steve rolls his eyes at Bucky’s teasing about their ages again (one _year)_ but keeps his voice gentle. “And the rest of it?”

This is the part that’s hard to get out, because Bucky has had a hard time even admitting it to himself. He has to take a moment before answering, volume low and words careful. “I guess it bothers me because- it’s a part of me I didn’t have before because I didn’t have the choice.”

Steve’s mouth presses together, thumb stroking over Bucky’s knuckles. “Buck…”

“I _know_ it’s stupid, it’s just some goddamn stubble, but-“

“It’s not stupid, how many times to I have to say it? Buck,” Steve says firmly. “It’s something that helped you reclaim yourself. It’s fine to put some stock in it.” His voice drops, and he steps closer until he’s between Bucky’s legs on the stool, hand reaching up to cup the beard being discussed right now like it’s something precious. It kind of is, to Bucky at least. “As long as you know that no matter what...you’re your own man, beard or not. You help remind me of that everyday, needing me to do the same for you isn’t stupid.”

Bucky tips their foreheads together with an exhale. “It’s just a toy,” he murmurs. “And my beard- it’s just some facial hair. But sometimes...it gets under my skin, is all. I know there’s nothing we can do about it, and it’s not meant to be hurtful- it _isn’t_. I just…”

“You didn’t have autonomy over your body for a long time, Buck,” Steve finishes for him. “It’s okay to feel weird about how other people present it, especially when it’s missing something important to you.” He smiles shyly. “You know, a lot of people say that me growing my beard and hair out is supposed to be some kind of symbol for how I let go of the Cap mantle and everything holding me to it. There’s no reason why your hair or beard shouldn’t mean something similar.”

“Tell it to the press,” Bucky mutters. He takes a breath in. He _does_ feel a bit better with the reassurance that what he’s feeling isn’t entitled or stupid, even if he’s still feeling a bit self conscious about feeling it in the first place. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he says quietly, grasping Steve’s hand tighter. “You’re right. I did need to talk about it.”

Steve presses a stubbly kiss to his forehead and lets Bucky slide his hands around his waist. “That’s what I’m here for, pal. Can’t let my guy get all grumpy on me without trying to help, can I?”

Bucky smiles with his eyes closed, head tucked against Steve’s chin. “Punk.”

“Punk enough to kick the ass of any toy company that insults your honor _or_ your beard if you want,” Steve hums, laughing when Bucky reaches a hand up to tug on his hair in response. “You don’t want me to?”

“I guess it doesn’t matter who likes my beard as long as I do,” Bucky retorts, lifting his head and pulling Steve down into a kiss than ends with Steve red mouthed and breathing heavy. Bucky smiles and swipes his flesh thumb over the corner of his lips, hair coarse under his fingertips. “And you, since you’re the one getting up close and personal with it.”

“Need me to show you how much I love it?” Steve asks breathlessly, hair mussed up from Bucky’s fingers and making him look good enough to eat- a thought that unfortunately reminds Bucky of the plans their little heart-to-heart had derailed. 

He glances over to their dinner still on the counter next to them. “As much as I want to give you a very enthusiastic yes to that suggestion...we have to eat first. Letting Capri’s go to waste in this household is an _offense,_ Captain.”

Steve groans, but lets Bucky turn him to sit on the stool beside him, plopping down heavily with a huff. “I thought I told you those novels were wrong about that,” he grumbles. “We should start reading the ones about _you_ and see what you like that I don’t know about, Barnes.”

Bucky grins slyly over his first bite of calzone. “I know you said _no_ to the whole _Captain’s Cock_ thing, but I’m on board for trying the _Big Dick Bucky Barnes_ model if you are…” he suggests innocently. 

Steve almost chokes on his own bite of antipasto salad, beet red and burning when he finally brings himself to look at Bucky next. “Buck,” he says warningly. 

Bucky just grins wider, mood brightening immediately. “What? Is that a no?”

Steve takes a good thirty seconds to pat his mouth primly with a napkin before answering. “Why would I need a toy for that when I already have the real thing?”

Bucky’s following laugh is so loud it’s practically a cackle, Steve smiling down at his plate at the sound even with ears that are still burning red. “Public perception really doesn’t matter for us, huh?” he says. When Steve looks at him, he shakes his head and goes on. “Whole world thinks you’re either a blushing virgin or some kind of sex god, but what you really are is a little _shit,_ Rogers.”

Steve looks at him happily despite the teasing, grin big and bright. “You’re the one who’d know that best.”

_Yeah_ , Bucky thinks. He is. Just like Steve knows _him_ the best. As long as he has him by his side to show that, he thinks he’ll be okay. They both will. 

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is @stevebuckyinc. you can drop by if you would like, but otherwise: i hope you enjoyed this dumb fic! i am mooching for feedback as always. bucky beard rights!


End file.
